


Post Op

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode: s02e02 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen Part II, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 19:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Sam visits Josh





	Post Op

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: Thanks BWM.  


* * *

The steady beeps of the multiple monitors were the only indication I had of his life. He was motionless. The bed was slightly elevated. A nasal cannula was affixed to his face. The slow rise and fall of his chest affirmed that he was in fact, breathing. Mrs. Bartlet had warned me that he would look this way. Pale. Frail. Sick. Like he had been run over by a truck. That pretty much summed it up. His face was swollen. Mostly from the trauma, not to mention the fluids and medications required to keep him alive. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his nose looked a little red, sore. His lips were dry and chapped. He hates it when his lips are chapped. His skin was paler than usual, if you can believe that. He's pretty pale to start with. It was hard to tell the difference between the white of his skin and the white of the sheets. The cardiac monitor patches were visible, just below his collarbones. A central IV line snaked out from under the gown. A tube protruded from the side of his chest. That was to keep his lung inflated and drain any blood or fluid that had accumulated. I could hear the quiet hum of a compressor commingled with the noise from the monitors. He was lying on an air mattress. It would circulate cool air under and around his body to regulate his temperature and reduce the pressure on his back and limbs. How did I know all this? Spend fourteen hours in a semi-controlled panic, praying for the surgeons to save his life and you’d be surfing the internet too. Amazing how much information about the treatment of thoracic gunshot wounds is available online. 

Leo and the President had seen him over an hour ago. The first words out of his mouth were, \"What's next?\" Then, he asked for me. I hadn't seen him since the ER. He was hallucinating then, babbling about New Hampshire. \"Sam?\" Mrs. Bartlet's voice brought me out of my thoughts. She had come to the waiting room to bring me to him. I suddenly realized I was standing at the foot of the bed. I don't remember walking into the room. The First Lady was standing beside me, her hand on my back, stroking gently up and down.\"Sam, you can move closer. He was awake a moment ago. Hold his hand. Talk to him. He can hear you.\" 

Truth is, I was afraid. Afraid if I moved that somehow he would stop. Breathing. Living. Being. God, I didn't want to lose him! \"I'm afraid,\" I whispered. Did I say that out loud? 

\"It's all right Sam. Come on, over here.\" She held my hand and led me to the edge of his bed, pulling a nearby chair closer and gently pushing me down into its seat. I was still afraid to move, so she took my left hand and placed it on top of his, closing my fingers around his palm and pressing our hands together. She leaned over and spoke gently by his ear, \"Wake up sweetie. Someone here wants to talk to you.\" She squeezed our joined hands and I saw his eyelashes flutter against his face. He has beautiful eyes. Thick, copper-colored lashes with warm, chocolate brown irises that draw me in every time I look into them. Abbey spoke again, \"Come on, open up now.\" He moved his head slightly towards her voice. His lips parted and a small sound emerged. I clenched my hand around his, harder than I intended and he winced slightly from the pressure. Leaning forward and easing my grip, I held my breath as I raised my right hand to brush a few stray curls behind his ear. He's overdue for a haircut. His hair gets outrageously curly when he's feverish or sweaty, such as now. I watched him struggle to open his eyes. The monitors reflected an increase in his respirations, along with his heart rate. He leaned into my hand, as I stroked along his temple and jawline. His eyes finally cracked open. Unfocused and dazed. Like someone who had been under anesthesia for twelve hours.

\"There you are. Josh, I brought someone to see you.\" Abbey smiled and stepped away from the bed. He squinted at the sound of her voice and then turned his eyes to my face. Recognition broke through his medically induced haze. \"Sam...\", so soft, yet so profound. Music to my ears. I smiled widely, stood up and kissed his forehead, brushing my hand through his hair. “...good to see you...” he whispered, his eyes closing. I felt his hand squeeze mine. Gentle, yet firm, as weak as he is. My resolve crumbled and the tears I'd been holding in finally trickled down. A few landed on his cheek, causing him to open his eyes again. \"Sam, don' worry...gonna be fine.\" His voice was so faint and raspy. I took a couple deep breaths before I was controlled enough to answer him. 

\"You're right Josh. You are going to be fine.\" I leaned in and kissed him once more, then pressed my forehead against his. \"And I'll be with you every step of the way. You rest now. I love you Josh.” 

He smiled slightly, sighed quietly, and squeezed my hand. “Love you too Sam,” he mumbled, before falling back to sleep.


End file.
